


The One In Which Dean Brings A Girl Home, And Sam Watches Them

by ciaan



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Pre-Canon, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-17
Updated: 2009-11-17
Packaged: 2017-10-03 04:58:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ciaan/pseuds/ciaan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The title basically is the summary. </p><p>(Content notes: The characters who actually have sex, Dean and the OFC, are both 18, but Sam is the POV character and he's 14. Also contains voyeurism where some of the subjects are not really aware that they are being watched.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One In Which Dean Brings A Girl Home, And Sam Watches Them

**Author's Note:**

> Originally completed January 2007. Betaed by femmenerd, kinetikatrue, and beckaandzac.

Sam looked up from his book when he heard the apartment door open. Dean had disappeared after dinner with no indication of when he'd be back, and it wasn't even midnight yet, so Sam wasn't expecting him.

Then he heard voices, and wondered if maybe Dad was home as well. The very feminine laugh a moment later dissuaded him from that idea. That was odd, because neither of the boys ever brought anyone to whatever motel or apartment they were staying in if they could possibly help it. Sam was too embarrassed, and Dean apparently thought no one deserved it. Sam had never known that to change, no matter how drunk or desperate Dean was, and he focused on the sound of them, trying to figure out what was going on.

Footsteps approached the bedroom door, and the girl said something low and unintelligible.

"I gotta warn you, my little brother's asleep in there." Dean's voice was clear even through the door, and Sam took the hint, flicking off the flashlight and pulling the covers over his head.

"Oh. Well, you have a perfectly serviceable sofa in the living room." She shifted from hesitant to seductive half-way through the sentence.

"I'd rather have Sammy wake up than Dad come home early."

Sam had started introducing himself as Sam months ago, and Dean and Dad still didn't use it.

The girl must have looked unenthused, because Dean rushed on. "Not that he's supposed to come back for ages yet." That was totally a lie. Dad was supposed to have come back from his hunt two days ago, and he hadn't. He hadn't called, either, not even after Dean paged him. So technically he could walk through that door any second, even though it was unlikely to happen for a few more days. When he went missing, two days was too soon for him to return.

But it was just a one-bedroom apartment, which the girl appeared not to have noticed, and that couch was Dad's bed. Dean would be really reluctant to have sex there. The door creaked but didn't open, as if someone had leaned back against it, and Sam could hear muffled rustlings. He rolled over onto his left side, back to Dean's bed and the door, facing the windows in the far wall, head still buried under his blanket, book shoved under the pillow. Hopefully he'd be able to fall asleep. Like, in the next twenty seconds.

He still wasn't asleep a few minutes later when the door opened softly and Dean and the girl tip-toed inside. There were more noises, the sighing of cloth sliding over skin, wet sounds of mouths, the bed creaking as they climbed onto it, light laughter and the hush of limbs being arranged. Sam squeezed his eyes closed tighter and wished he'd put his head under the pillow, but it was too late to move any now. The noises got louder, heavy breathing, rhythmic friction.

"Oh, God," the girl gasped out. "Okay, that-" and then her voice was cut off with a light clapping sound.

Sam was, well, by no means going to be able to fall asleep now, and he had to admit he was curious. She sounded so pleased. What was Dean doing to her? And what was she like, anyway? He rolled over as slowly and silently as he could, eyes still closed, taking almost a minute to end up facing the other way. When he was finally settled he opened his eyes.

Dean and the girl were grey and washed-out in the dim glow of the streetlight coming through the window, blurred even though they were just a few feet away, but Sam could see enough to make out what was happening. He knew he would be just a dark shape against the light to them, so he had the advantage, especially since neither one was paying any attention to him.

The girl was spread out, one leg flung over the side of the bed closest to Sam, the other pressed between Dean's knees. Her skirt was hitched up around her waist, a pair of panties hanging off her ankle just above the floor, otherwise naked. Dark hair spread out around her over the pillow, and Sam couldn't quite make out her face, but she looked like she was probably pretty. He knew she must be. Dean was on the far side of her, shirtless, leaning over, his left hand pressed to her mouth and his right down between her legs. The girl's near arm was raised above her head, hand clenched in her own hair, and the fingers of her other hand were hooked under the waistband of Dean's jeans, just resting there.

She dug her fingers a little further into Dean's pants and reached up with her other hand, curving it around the back of Dean's neck. Dean leaned down to kiss her, bracing himself with the hand he removed from her mouth, his amulet falling forward and nestling itself between her breasts.

After a moment Dean bent over further and sucked at her far nipple, and Sam could hear the damp motions of it. The girl arched up under his mouth. Sam stared at her breasts, transfixed. They were the nicest naked breasts he'd ever seen in person, round and beautiful and heaving, her nipple a darker point against her skin. His pulse raced, and he could feel his skin beginning to tingle and his dick hardening in his pyjama pants.

She clutched at Dean tighter, moaning, and Sam's gaze slid slowly down her body to where Dean was fingering her.

Her leg blocked much of the view from this angle, but Sam could see a dark smudge of pubic hair and the top of Dean's hand speedily rubbing up and down. Sam had recently done the same thing to a girl for the first time himself, and he remembered how warm and wet and amazing it felt. He wished he could reach across that space, be the one to touch her, kiss her, know her.

Dean suddenly did something else, reaching further down and twisting his wrist, and the girl shuddered. He pulled his mouth off with a wet pop and sat up, watching her intently. Sam recognized that look, the one Dean always got when he was waiting for something to happen, when he was taking aim and just about to pounce. The girl's eyes were closed and she didn't seem to notice or care that Dean was watching her like his target. For all Sam knew that could be normal.

Her back was curved like a bow, breasts raised up, and her neck was arched back, head pressing into the pillow so far that her chin pointed at the ceiling. She was digging her fingers into Dean's shoulder, probably really hard and painfully. Her breath was ragged and fast, and Sam bit at his lip, concentrating on controlling his own breath, clenching his fists against the slow warmth pooling in his veins.

Then Dean twisted his hand again, and she moaned deep in her throat, her spine curling and her head rolling forward, pulling her up the other way. Her thighs trembled wildly, helplessly, and her panties slid the last few inches off her toes and fell to the floor.

Dean grinned, and Sam stared in astonishment. He hadn't gotten a reaction at all like that when he did it, though Amy had said it was fine and he hoped that was true. He really enjoyed what she did to him, and hanging out with her. Now Sam desperately wanted to inspire that same response, but watching this hadn't actually given him any practical pointers. He ought to just ask Dean how to do it, even though Dean would tease him.

The girl slowly relaxed back onto the bed, pulling Dean down to kiss her again. He nipped playfully at her lips, then bent to her ear. They were probably whispering, because a moment later Dean chuckled. Sam watched her suck roughly at Dean's neck as Dean reached over and took something small out of his back pocket, pressing it into her hand. She smiled and raised it to her mouth, biting down on the edge of it as she stretched for Dean's fly. Sam was pretty sure it must be a condom packet.

Dean shifted over to settle between her legs as she popped the button and slowly pushed down his zipper. She was the one grinning now, as she reached in and pulled out Dean's hard dick, wrapping her fingers around it. Dean sighed and shut his eyes. She grabbed the condom out of her mouth with her other hand and then licked her lips.

Sam could see her eyes glinting with reflected light, the darker curve of her mouth against her pale skin, and she looked so eager that he started to shake a little under the covers. He was fully, completely hard, too. Her hand kept moving and Dean's head dropped forward, his breathing faster. It was the familiar sound of his post-exertion labored gasp, but with an undercurrent of pleasure. It wasn't like the mouse-quiet way he breathed when he jerked off, that Sam had learned to copy and was using now.

She let go of Dean and he fell forward on his hands with a choked noise, leaning over her. The girl laughed, pushing him upright until he was resting on his knees. "Yeah, strip it," she said softly. Dean pinched her nipple quickly, making her gasp, and shoved his jeans and boxers down his thighs. She laughed again as she tore open the condom packet, reaching down. Sam caught just a glimpse of her pinching the tip of it - so people actually did that - before she raised her leg higher.

He couldn't see anything other than her tilting her hips up and Dean pressing forward slowly, but he still heard the smooth wet noise that went along with Dean's low moan and the girl's ragged sigh. Sam closed his eyes for a minute, listening to the slap of skin on skin and the slowly building rhythmic creaking of the bed, then opened them again.

The girl's legs were wrapped around Dean's waist, her feet crossed at his thighs, pressing together and holding down the waistband of his jeans. Dean's face was buried in her hair, on the far side of her head where Sam couldn't see him, so he got a clear view of the distant concentration on her face as she whimpered quietly, mouth wide and eyes shut. She reached up and draped Dean's amulet back over his shoulders, then clung more tightly to him. Her lips kept moving, soundlessly, and her hips rocked up and down. Dean was thrusting with a smooth control that Sam hadn't even known was possible.

Dean was just like that, God, good at everything and always so easy with it. He'd always been that way, just as he'd always been bigger and stronger than Sam and still was, even though Sam was almost as tall as him now. He was good at everything, and he wasn't doing anything with his life, and it annoyed Sam so much that he wanted to throw things. These past few months, since Dean graduated, he just wasted all his time, worked odd jobs as a handyman, tinkered with the car, and most nights he was out hustling pool or poker, coming back flushed with his winnings and drink and the scent of girls and sex, the scent that was lying heavy in the room now. Sometimes he went out hunting with Dad, when Dad let him and didn't insist that Dean stay home to watch Sam, which Sam resented mightily. He was in high school now, and he could watch himself.

Sam was used to Dad being like that, no goals other than hunting and revenge, Dad had always been like that. But seeing Dean the same way, like he'd just walked off some precipice into pointlessness, made Sam twitchy with worry. That same precipice loomed in his own future, not even a full four years away. He didn't want it, and he didn't understand how Dean could be so carefree about it. How Dean could have no thoughts other than banging tonight's hot chick, and shrug off any talk of the future, like there was no such thing. Sam wanted a future, a real one, he wanted it bad.

The other bed creaked louder, and Sam swallowed heavily. He didn't want to watch any longer, was getting too frustrated by the tease of it, by her anonymity to him when it was clear... It was clear that Dean actually knew her, clear that they'd done all this before, that Dean liked her enough to tell her even a little about himself, to bring her here. It was too much, too weird, and Sam wanted to shut it out, to be left alone. He closed his eyes again, trying not to hear, moving slowly and quietly to roll onto his stomach, pressing his dick into the mattress.

He could still see a negative image behind his eyelids, a dark blur of bodies in a glowing expanse, the curve from the girl's waist to her ass, the long line of her leg, bent sharply at the knee, the dull flexing of Dean's back muscles. The picture stretched and distorted impossibly, to the rhythm of the heavy breathing he couldn't shut out, the beat of his own heart. Sam pushed his hips down harder, gripping his pillow, trying to stay silent.

The girl gasped, and then just started repeating "oh, oh oh oh," relaxed and happy, and Sam had been staring at the creasing skin where her thigh was pushed back against her stomach for a while before he realized that his eyes were open. He tilted his head, staring as her breasts rose and fell, bobbing slightly across her ribs. Her head was back, face open with pleasure, and her far arm was raised up, holding the top of the headboard, her other hand clawing at Dean's biceps, Dean rocking brokenly against her now.

The girl slid her hands down Dean's sides and tugged at the backs of his thighs until he pulled his knees under him, lifting her hips. Dean moaned as she grabbed onto his ass, yanking him closer and deeper, and he curled his fingers into her skin, rubbing his thumbs over the juts of her hipbones. "Yeah, damn," she breathed.

Sam thought he was just a little bit in love with this girl.

She really was hot, and this was absolutely nothing like the videos in sex ed or the pornos Jake and Billy had. So just for now Sam decided to borrow a page from Dean's playbook, and not think so much, since he couldn't escape this, the rich, bitter girl scent in the air, the rocking of the bed, the damp slipping noises, the duet of syncopated gasps.

Dean leaned down and kissed her breast, sucking her nipple into his mouth, dragging his tongue around the edges, breathing roughly through his nose. She petted his hair, her other hand lacing through his fingers on her waist, bracing her feet and rocking her hips as he pushed up to meet her. She was slower this time when she came, tossing her head, body melting, then jerking against him, then melting further and jerking again and melting, as if she could do that forever. Sam whimpered softly into the pillow as she yanked at Dean's hair.

Then Dean straightened up, thrusting raggedly a last few times and freezing with a little wordless cry. He hung there in Sam's vision for a moment and then slumped forward over her. She dropped her head back, sighing quietly. Dean cupped her breasts and mouthed at them for a bit more until she pushed at his shoulders, and he disentangled himself and rolled off to lie on his back next to her, away from Sam. The girl pressed her legs together, rolling her pelvis from side to side, stretching her ankles out, while Dean pulled off the condom and dropped it in the wastebasket.

She turned over and kissed him, Dean running his fingers down her spine. After a minute she pulled away. "I should head on out." It was quiet but not quite a whisper.

Dean nodded. "I'll walk you to your car." She smiled down at him.

Sam closed his eyes and stayed as still as possible while he listened to them dress. He waited a while after he heard the door click shut behind them, then sat up, turning on the lamp on the table between the beds. He wasn't going to keep pretending with just Dean around. He opened his book again and propped it in his lap, staring down at the sentences, unable to concentrate on Aztec gods and sacrifices. He breathed deeply, slowly calming down. The room still smelled of sweat and mingling bodies.

It took a while, but eventually Dean came back, drying his face with the hem of his t-shirt, a few drops of water still clinging to his hairline. He nodded to Sam. "It's past your bedtime, Sammy. Lights out."

Sam looked askance at Dean, playing along. "I'm reading. Besides, it's your fault I'm still awake."

"Apples and oranges, man. It's a school night, so shut it." Dean pulled off his t-shirt and sat down on the edge of his bed, yanking at his socks. Sam stared at him defiantly.

"Let me just finish my chapter." He didn't really care about the book, right now, but it was the principle of the thing.

Dean started unbuttoning his jeans. "How much do you have left?"

"Only two pages." Sam held it up, showing off the pages in question.

"Fine, but read fast. I'm beat." Dean kicked his pants away and climbed under the covers. Sam snickered. Dean plumped his pillow, dropping his head down. "Lucy's really hot, yeah?"

"Yeah." Sam heard his voice shake a little on the word. He wondered how Dean met her, if they'd made plans to see each other again as she left, if she thought she had a future with Dean. Lucy. He wondered whether Amy would ever act as excited as that, how much longer he could even talk to her when they'd probably be moving on again pretty much as soon as Dad reappeared. He wondered if he was ever going to find a girl he could really tell anything to. "Dean, how do..." Sam trailed off, uncertain what question he was even asking. How do you make a girl respond like that? How do you stand living like this? How do you teach an elephant to ride a bicycle?

Dean glanced over at him. "How what, Sammy?"

"Nevermind. Later."

Dean stared for a moment longer, then smiled. "Sure." He rolled over, back to Sam, pulling his blanket up. Sam returned to reading his book.


End file.
